


Better Than the Alternative

by kyuuketsukirui



Series: This Dangerous but Irresistible Pastime [1]
Category: Natural Nylon RPF
Genre: Don't Have to Know Canon, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-15
Updated: 2004-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyuuketsukirui/pseuds/kyuuketsukirui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time, Ewan was surprised this bloke even approached him. <span class="u">Bloody gorgeous and what does he need to be paying for sex?</span> But pay he does, nervously, like he's never done this before. And maybe he hasn't, or maybe it's an act; Ewan doesn't care one way or the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than the Alternative

The third time, he falls asleep after. Not surprising seeing as it's after midnight. Ewan stretches out next to him, tired enough to maybe fall asleep himself. He can't, though, never can. The guy seems nice enough, but Ewan would have to be a lot sleepier to let his guard down like that.

He gets up instead, pads over to the tiny hotel bathroom, doesn't close the door as he pisses and cleans up. His stomach growls, and as he stands in the doorway, he toys with the idea of just leaving now. Get dressed quickly; take the money on the nightstand; rifle through his wallet, even. There's sure to be more.

The guy snorts, turns on his side, and Ewan holds his breath. Hasn't even done anything yet and he feels caught in the act. The guy doesn't wake up, though, and eventually Ewan relaxes again.

There are two pairs of jeans on the floor: Ewan's tatty ones, knees worn through, and this bloke's, looking brand new in comparison. He kneels, pulls out the guy's wallet and is disappointed to find there's only another twenty. Fuck that. Ewan takes it anyway, holding it crumpled in one hand as he flips through, looking at the credit cards and driver's license. Jude Law. Well, at least Ewan knows his name now. Not that it matters.

Not even five minutes later he's dressed and out the door.

* * *

The first time, Ewan was surprised this bloke even approached him. _Bloody gorgeous and what does he need to be paying for sex?_ But pay he does, nervously, like he's never done this before. And maybe he hasn't, or maybe it's an act; Ewan doesn't care one way or the other.

The next day, Ewan imagines a life for him, and he doesn't know why he's thinking about him at all, except that it's something to pass the time as he eats his Big Mac. Just finished uni. This is his first job, first real job. He's...what? A teacher, maybe. No, that's not quite right. Boring office job. Someone's assistant, yeah. He can picture it, filling in the details of this man's imaginary life until he's distracted by the idea of a showdown between these anemic fries and proper chips. Even with numbers on their side - there must be fifty or more in this little bag alone - the fries don't stand a chance, pathetic excuses for potatoes that they are.

* * *

He's surprised there's a fourth time, more surprised than he was at the second and third. He did nick £20, after all. He entertains a brief fantasy of this Jude being some sort of serial killer, and his own name appearing in the paper the next morning with the headline "Rent Boy Found Dead In Sleazy Hotel". It has a certain ring to it.

* * *

Now Ewan's surprised when more than a few days go by without seeing him, though he still likes to imagine gory deaths for himself. It's better than the alternative. If he imagines anything else, he might actually come to believe it, and he's not that stupid.

The one time he asked Jude why - and that's all he asked, just "why?", not all the other questions that wanted to come pouring out - Jude said, "You reminded me of someone." Ewan wonders if he still reminds Jude of whoever he was, or if it was just that first time. He wonders and then he turns on his side, picking at his cuticles, and imagines the goriest death he can think of.


End file.
